


I dare you

by MethodMom



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F, f&fgiftexchange2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21904192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MethodMom/pseuds/MethodMom
Summary: It's just a game, right?
Relationships: Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs
Comments: 25
Kudos: 217





	I dare you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MsSir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsSir/gifts).



> For Sir and the discord gift exchange ❤️ Happy Holidays!!

“Truth or dare?” Doug asked Andy with a mischievous smile on his face.

“Honestly, Douglas.” Miranda rolled her eyes, “we are not tween girls at a sleep over.”

Nigel muttered something that sounded an awful lot like ‘speak for yourself’ before Andy interrupted. “Come on, let’s play! It’ll be fun! Unless…wait,” Andy shifted forward in her seat and leveled a playful glare at the woman seated across from her. “The great Miranda Priestly isn’t afraid of a little game, is she?”

Miranda scoffed. “Afraid…,” She looked at her nails, feigning disinterest. “Hardly.”

“So, why not play then? Or is the idea of having fun a little too offensive to your delicate sensibilities?” Andy asked, the challenge evident. Miranda knew she was being goaded. She knew that Andrea was using her inability to refuse a challenge against her, but she didn’t care. She was going to wipe the floor with the insufferable woman. She’d apparently forgotten who she was dealing with since her departure from Runway. _Well_ , Miranda thought to herself, _she’s about to be reminded._

“Oh, my sensibilities are just fine, Andrea.” He eyes fell to the unopened bottle of tequila in the middle of the table. “If you want to play truth or dare, fine. Next, we can freeze our bra’s and make prank phone calls to the boys we like. Or…” Miranda relaxed in her chair, waiting for Andrea to take the bait.

“Or what?” Andy asked, curiosity dancing in her eyes.

_Gotcha._

Miranda may not be able to back away from a challenge, but Andrea was just as blinded by her need to know any and everything.

“What if we upped the ante, so to speak.”

“I’m listening.” Andrea’s brown eyes never leaving her ice blue ones.

Miranda tapped her fingers lightly on the table. “Let’s say truth or dare…or drink.”

Miranda looked at Doug and Nigel who were chuckling to themselves as they watched their best friends volley heated glares back and forth to each other across the table. No doubt both wondering if inviting the women over for a casual game night and drinks was a mistake.

“Oh, you’re going down _Priestly_.” Andy replied with a smug impish grin that Miranda found unnervingly alluring.

Miranda returned her grin, but Andy was so blinded by confidence that she missed the burning of retribution and desire in Miranda’s eyes. “One of us will be, _Sachs._ Count on it.”

~

Four rounds, and a few shots in, Miranda saw her opening. “My turn.” Up to this point she hadn’t chosen Andrea for any truths or dares. Now, however, she looked ahead to the woman in front of her and prepared to attack. “Andrea, Truth or Dare?”

She expected her to say dare. She didn’t.

“Truth.”

 _Perfect,_ she thought to herself as a devious smirk played across her face. A smirk Andy missed, but Doug and Nigel both saw for what it was…dangerous.

“Very well,” Miranda began. “Tell me once and for all why you left in Paris.”

Andy snickered, “Um, I lied. I choose dare.”

“Fine, I dare you to answer my question."

The carefree air of the party vanished as if it was sucked out with a vacuum, replaced by a stillness Miranda couldn’t understand. Andrea had stopped smiling, which was unfortunate because Miranda loved how it warmed whatever room she was in. The young woman truly was magnetic. She had missed her dearly, and though she would never admit it, she was drawn to her. _Like a moth to a flame_ , she chuckled wryly to herself.

Neither man moved except for their eyes which had turned knowingly in Andrea’s direction. Nigel’s face carried a look of concern while Doug’s was more melancholic. If Miranda was reading him (and the supportive look on his face) correctly, she would assume he already knew the answer to this particular question.

But it wasn’t about either of them. Andrea sat across from her, a flurry of emotions flitting across her beautiful face, she looked to Nigel and then back to her best friend Doug who shrugged in a 'why-not?' manner. All the silent communication was killing Miranda.

“Do move at a glacial pace, Andrea. You know how it thrills me.” She deadpanned.

Andrea opened her mouth to speak then promptly closed it and quickly reached for the bottle in the middle of the table, prepared to pass on the question and take the shot.

Miranda was quicker. “Oh no. No, you don’t get a pass on this one,” and she pulled the bottle across the table out of Andrea’s reach. “You _will_ tell me.” The ‘why you left me’ went unsaid though Miranda still felt the harsh sting of her abandonment even now, after two years. It made Miranda furious that the doe-eyed, idealistic, hopeful woman had managed to burrow her way into her heart and she absolutely loathed the woman. But not nearly as much as she yearned for her.

Both men sat rigid, not even a flinch. As the tension in the room increased so did Andrea’s squirming. A hoarse, feminine whisper filled the silence. “I can’t.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

Doug moved his hand to cover Andy’s and calmed her fidgeting, another show of support Miranda didn’t understand and _God, would someone please explain what is going on._ She was sure her annoyance was evident now.

Andrea took a deep, haggard, breath that was riddled with resignation. “You don’t want to know, Miranda.”

“On the contrary. I think you’ll find that since I _asked_ the question, I do, in fact, want to know.”

“Why?” Andrea asked, a spark of anger in her voice. “you’ll just laugh at the reason and I… I just can’t…”

“Tell me.” Miranda pushed.

Andrea’s voice was pained and came out as a whimper, “please don’t make me.”

 _“Tell me,"_ she demanded.

From a trickle to a roar Andy’s anger surged, “FINE!” Andrea stood abruptly out of her chair and her gaze, which had yet to meet Miranda’s in during this round finally locked on to her. Furious russet brown eyes met her own icy blue. “You want to know why I left,” she exhaled, “fine.”

A pause. A breath. A single tear down a youthful cheek.

Miranda didn’t know what to think. When she asked the question she did not expect the outburst she was seeing now. The raw show of emotions put her on edge and for a moment she wondered if she really did want to know. But she had to know. She needed to hear Andrea tell her how much she had disappointed her; How much she hated her for what she did to Nigel, even though that had long since been rectified and Nigel was now editing his own magazine; how she couldn’t stand to look at her anymore. Miranda needed to hear it if for no other reason than she could finally move on and stop carrying the ridiculous sliver of hope that the young woman would ever see her as anything except terrible.

“I left for several reasons, least of which was how demanding and exhausting it was to work for you, Miranda.” She continued, “There were moments when working for you that I seriously considered tossing myself out a window just to end it.”

The older woman hung her head, steeling herself for the onslaught of negativity that she knew was coming her way.

“But,” and Miranda picked up on the change of her voice, “then there were moments where I got to see someone different. Like when you are around your girls. Or when you went to visit Emily in the hospital before we left for Paris.”

That got Miranda’s attention and Andrea smiled at her when she looked up. “I was coming to see her and ask if there was anything I could do for her before we left.” Andy looked sheepish at the admission, “You didn’t know I was there. But I saw you.”

Miranda hadn’t seen Andrea that day and she lifted her chin and straightened her posture as if to let the sentimentality of the situation roll off her back. She had an image to uphold and it wouldn’t do for people to know the woman behind the editor. Caring for others was a weakness in her position. It left one open to attack and rather than needing to be on the defensive all the time, she chose not to care. It was tactical. It was necessary. It was…lonely.

“Fast forward to Paris. To the backseat of a town car.” She closed her eyes and Miranda could see the woman attempting to focus her attention. “To a naïve girl trying to reconcile the woman she loved with the woman seated beside her who had just ruined, perhaps forever, the happiness of her dearest friend.”

Andrea’s eyes were glistened with unshed tears. “Something in me changed that day, Miranda,” she whispered. “I didn’t know how to love both of you.”

Miranda looked up, “I don’t understand,” she croaked. Her voice tight as she strained to hold back her feelings. Afraid to be hopeful.

“Both of you. You the editor and you the woman.” Andrea explained. “I left that day because I was overwhelmed by my feelings for you. It was stupid and foolish, but if I had to do it again, I would still leave.”

The editor prepared for the ax to fall. _Best to beat her to the punch then._ “Ah, well. That’s that then.” She stiffened her shoulders and stood, prepared to leave. “Nigel, Douglas. Thank you so much for your hospitality. I think I’ll be going now.”

Andrea reached out, “Miranda, wait.”

But Miranda moved from her reach and pulled out her cell phone ignoring Andrea’s movement in her peripheral, “Roy? Yes. See you in five.”

“Miranda, hold on a second.” Andrea implored.

“No, no. I think I’ve heard quite enough. I asked. You answered. That’s all.” She needed to get home to nurse her broken heart in peace. It wouldn't do to breakdown here.

“But, it’s not.” Andrea whimpered. “It’s not all.”

Miranda responded, her voice cold as ice. “Yes, it is. And I’m leaving. Have a wonderful life, Andrea.”

Tears began spilling over in earnest now as Andrea raised her voice. “NO! No, it’s not all. And stop dismissing me like I’m one of your lackey’s. You don’t get to tell me when I’m done.”

Miranda’s pulled her coat from the closet and had a hand on the door knob when she was forcefully spun around. Her nostrils flared with anger, but the wild look in Andrea’s eyes made wetness pool in her La Perla thongs.

Andrea took a step toward her, a predator moving in for the kill, and Miranda was sure she wouldn’t survive Andrea telling her that she no longer cared.

“You fucking asked and now you will listen to every damn word I have to say.” The intensity in her brown eyes held Miranda fast to the door. “I would leave again if I had to do it all over again, but I need you to understand why.”

Miranda stood silently, Andrea looming in her personal space.

“You are infuriating and frustrating and combative.”

The editor huffed. “A stunning assessment. Glad I stayed around to hear it,” she snarked.

That made Andrea smile and Miranda’s heart rate increased. “But you are also inspirational and hard working and I’ll be _damned_ if I let you walk out that door without knowing how wonderful I think you are.” Andrea inched closer. “I left because I needed space to become worthy of you, Miranda. I left for so many reasons but most of all I left so I could come back your equal.”

Andrea closed the distance between them, their lips just a hairs breadth away and Miranda was sure she was going to pass out. Was she saying what she thought she was saying? Did Andrea really still care for her?

“And now?” The editor asked, her half lidded gaze seeking clarification.

“And now, it’s my turn…”

Miranda's heart felt like it was going to explode as Andrea leaned in and placed her hands on the door beside her head.

“Truth or dare, Miranda?”

The young woman’s breath was ticking her cheek. Miranda’s breathing increased in response and her chest rose and fell quickly, their breasts rubbing against the other, the friction causing her nipples to strain against the fabric of her clothing.

“Dare,” she whispered.

Andrea’s toothy grin mirrored the one Miranda had started the game with. Back when Miranda was in control of the situation. Back when she believed that her Andrea was lost to her forever. Back when she thought she needed to be let go so she could heal.

Yet here she stood, praying to every god in the Pantheon that for once, just _ONCE_ , someone had found reason, some redeemable quality, that would let them want to hold on to her. She wanted to be held on to so badly.

Andrea pressed her into the door, full bodies touching, breaths mingling, and warmth pooled in Miranda’s abdomen.

“Kiss me.” Andrea challenged, “ _I dare you_.”

And Miranda did.


End file.
